Depths of Both Sides
by historiafan8763
Summary: When the world was swallowed by despair, it was the group called SHSL Despair that led the downfall. But were they really the masterminds, or victims of circumstances? Let me take you to the past and future, to the clash of hope and despair... A one shot series about pre/post SDR2
1. Can you Hear the People Sing?

The Depths of Both Sides

_Do you hear the people sing...?_

(Pre-SDR2. I don't own SDR2.)

* * *

Before the Tragedy, the world turned on the axis of regularity. It was a place that hatred and love mingled together to create emotion. A place where blood ran rampant on one side of the globe, and a celebration of birth on the other. It was far from perfect, but nevertheless, people managed to prosper.

Then a monster called Despair swallowed the world.

The Tragedy- also known as Mankind's Most Despairingly Maleficent and Monstrous Malefaction- seemed to have come out of nowhere. It was like a whirlwind that swept and swallowed the world. The Tragedy was a series of malicious events overlapping each other in a rapid series of fear, anger, death...And most prominently of all, **despair**.

The strong massacred the weak, the weak slaughtered the weaker, and the weaker banded together to kill the strong. People were quickly swept away in the tsunami of tragedy. Helpless civilians were quickly swallowed up by the despair...

* * *

Now, let me tell you about a young Princess named Sonia Nevermind.

This following tale of the Princess might not **seem** to have a visible connection to the Tragedy that I have been referring to...But I assure you, they are most certainly **not** superfluous.

Before the Tragedy that overtook the world, Miss Sonia Nevermind was the Princess of the Kingdom of Novoselic.

She was a young lady- a spritely high schooler- who held the position of royalty since birth. She was a bright and cheerful girl, with a natural aptitude for politics. Although slightly naïve, she had an aura of authority and assertiveness.

She was the treasure of Novoselic, and the most loved Princess in the world. She was even invited to the prestigious Hope's Peak Academy private school- where only the most talented and elite students in the world attended- for how wonderful a Princess she was.

Sonia Nevermind came back to her country from the illustrious Hope's Peak Academy, right after the Tragedy started. Along with the King and Queen, the entire nation warmly and enthusiastically welcomed her back to her homeland.

Why wouldn't they have been? The royal heiress was safe and sound, back where she belonged, instead of romping in another country.

Then, strange things began to happen.

A few weeks after her return, her parents disappeared without a trace.

A nationwide panic occurred. Fear spread upon the masses of Novoselic. Every citizen wondered of the fates of their rulers.

_Where could they have gone? Were they taken by force? If so, how come the guards didn't notice? _Numerous rumors flew, ranging from the pair running away, to abduction by enemy spies.

No one suspected the Princess.

Who would? She was the sweetest girl imaginable. She was their beloved, precious Princess.

Who would suspect the Princess of Novoselic to kill her own parents?

And with the disappearance of her parents, she was the only one left who could rule her country. So she did.

Sonia Nevermind became their Queen.

As soon as she became Queen, the nation changed. Gone was the quaint and charming atmosphere of the lands. Gone was the air of elegance and satisfaction. Gone was the bright cheerfulness that permeated all citizens.

All that was left was a sense of dread...Of **despair**.

Novoselic had become overthrown by Despair- their ruler at the helm, spreading the dreadful plague-like emotion to all her citizens. People quickly lost their common sense, their morals, their sense of justice. People ran rampant- ferocious, wild, violent. They were no more than beasts.

It was as if the entirety of the nation had gotten swept up in an upheaval, a revolution of madness.

But this was far more gruesome, far more violent, and far more dreadful than that.

This was no mere revolution, nor was it war.

This was anarchy, anarchy in its purest, strongest form.

* * *

...But that is not the end of this foolish tale. There is more.

Novoselic became a mad country full of blood-lust and warmongering, led by their equally mad Queen. Terrorists spawned like rabbits, and missiles were launched with regularity.

The situation quickly escalated, as the world veered out of control. When Novoselic became too much of a threat, the other countries did not even bother sending generals, politicians, peacemakers, or armies. Rather, they sent in missiles of their own, in retaliation to the despairing country.

Now...The country named Novoselic does not exist any longer. It can no longer be called a country. It is merely a land full of death and fear, a large ghost-town in the midst of the world.

Among those killed- thousands upon thousands of Novoselic people- the mad Queen was one of the few that survived. The only evidence of her surviving was the absence of her corpse among the ruins of the former country, when the lands were searched and raided.

No one knows what has happened to Sonia Nevermind.

No one knows what she's doing. No one knows what's she's planning. No one knows where she is.

And that, my friends, is the end of this tale.


	2. The Color of Blood

Depths of Both Sides

The Color of Blood

(Post SDR2. I don't own SDR2)

* * *

It was 7 a.m.

The electronic beeping filled the otherwise stagnant air of the room, breaking the dead atmosphere.

A hand slowly rose from under the thin blanket, shutting the shrill alarm off. Rather than immediately jumping out of bed, the man with his awkwardly lanky limbs lay surprisingly languid on the piece of furniture, having already been awake.

His body always woke at five- a habit that he had forcefully taken up by himself, so that he could rise early to tinker on his projects. However it was painfully clear that the days then and days now were different, the anticipation and determination replaced with swallowing, crushing fatigue. It was strange, it felt like so much have occured during the time he was recovering from what the others called, 'brainwashing', while in reality, not much actually happened.

It was to the point where he had almost wanted to crawl over and lay comatose with the other ten, just so he wouldn't have to go through the awful feeling. Almost. He closed his eyes, recalling the conversation what he surmised to be about two weeks ago.

* * *

_"Do you remember the time you spent on Jabberwock Island?" the man outside the confined cell asked him. The prisoner turned away nervously. Looking at the suited man made him sick to his stomach, for reasons he didn't know._

_"I know it's in there. I've already seen it," the man said with such certainty, that it made him jealous. "So you can do it. I'm sure of it._

_Do **what**? He didn't understand- the man should know this, from how lost he looked._

_Why didn't they just end it already...?_

_The man continued to stay, rattling off about something called the 'New World Program', which the tired boy only listened to halfheartedly. What was the point of listening- understanding anything- if he just wanted to disappear...?_

_As he listlessly stared into space, flashes of images flickered into form, like a shaky image in an old TV._

_A sparkling ocean complete with a white beach. Colorful figures so bright it was hard to see them clearly. Wooden, home-like huts. A polished courtroom, full of wooden stands, filled with the same bright figures. Bright, neon pink splotches... _

_He shook his head harshly, shaking away the mirages from his mind. Even so, the images still remained at the corner of his consciousness, occasionally phasing in hazily with a glimpse or two. He didn't bother dispersing it after that, already done caring about this oddly bright, hazy world._

_...Or had he?_

* * *

Rubbing his eyes furiously, he wearily sat in an upright position, his body groaning in protest.

Everything still felt so **surreal** to him; starting from the meagerly furnished room, to the situation he was stuck in. It felt like one wrong touch could send the entire thing evaporating into thin air.

Then he noticed something. Something he couldn't believe he hadn't noted before. Something that almost made his heart stop.

His bed was smeared with pink.

He scrambled out of the thin coverings, tumbling down the bed with a solid _thump_. Heart pounding frantically, he wildly looked around the room. His body felt strange, uncomfortable heat rising from his chest, swamping his entire frame.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what the source of the smears were. But his mind was on overdrive. A frenzy of poisonous memories filled his pounding head, each one stifling him to the point that he choked on bile.

He ran- rather, it was more stumbling, than running- to the small bathroom. He desperately twisted the shower knob, releasing a waterfall of ice-cold water that pounded upon his thin frame and swept away the wrenching pain in his gut. He tried calming down his stomach, to keep from retching right then and there.

The water- however soothing it was- did nothing for the succession of images bursting in his mind's eye.

_Dying screams, mangled corpses, twisted expressions, an air that spoke of death and despair..._

_And the overlying stench of blood._

He choked, the nonexistent salty fumes clogging his nose. The water that splattered on the floor was pink.

Florescent pink of dye.

Florescent pink of **blood**.

_PLease LET me LIvE._

_Please don't kiLL me, pleASe DON'T KILL ME, PLEASE._

Head pounding from the sound of bullets- that sickening sound when it punctured human flesh- he clawed at the shower tap. The water came down mercilessly, the intense deluge of frigid water freezing him to his bones. But it still wasn't enough.

_One of his past tormenters in middle school reduced to a pile of inner organs and mush._

_A fellow student from Hope's Peak Academy, who gruesomely had his head hacked off by an electronic saw._

_A town laid to waste with automatic weapons, the ground covered with corpses and rotting flesh._

He didn't know he was crying- the tears had mixed well with the icy water- until chest tightened, and his cries caused him to start hyperventilating. Wracking sobs engulfed his body, burning hot tears dripping down onto the tiled floor to mix with the pink water.

Collapsing on to the hard marble floor, he lay there with the shower still pelting him, each drop feeling like pellets of ice rather than water.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, the hoarse words dying as soon it left his throat by the roaring water. Those words he kept on muttering, the same phrase repeating until he didn't know who he was even referring it to.

He kept repeating the worlds, stumbling over them, making them mix together into a garbled mess. Repeating them so much that he kept biting his tongue with his sharp teeth. Repeating them so much, until he realized what it reminded him of, remembering that unbidden memory of him peeking into a dark room of the cramped house all those years ago, where his father sat alone crying, repeating that lonely phrase over and over again.

_Sorry, old man_, Kazuichi Souda thought bleakly, as he painfully bit down on his lip, the rivulets of blood joining the pink on the cold tile. _Guess I didn't keep my promise of growing up to be a good, successful person._


	3. Dance of Death

The Depths of Both Sides

Dance of Death

(Pre-SDR2. I don't own SDR2.)

* * *

_Saionji loved dancing._

_Everything of the buyo, the sensation of silk against her skin, the smell of the polished wooden floors, resonated with a part within her. She felt the most complete when performing, to be one with the stage, the mood, the audience. She loved it all._

_That's why she hated it with all her heart._

At the center of the darkened stage, Saionji stood still like a statue. The audience, ever the un-noticing bystanders, blabbered on. She felt the usual sneer tugging on the corner of her lips, but suppressed it, retaining her mask of false serenity. As she waited, she felt the chains- thick, heavy things that dragged her down.

_It was a stifling summer day, the heat coming in droves. A child in a yellow kimono struggled with her movements, sweat beaded on her forehead. A crone stood next to the child with hawk-like eyes, snapping at every misstep the youngster took. _

Taking deep breaths, she started to move, the metal fetters accompanying her.

_The child was crying, her pitiful wails echoing around the empty house. Her right foot was bleeding, the stream of blood bubbling forth from the tiny puncture wound. She hobbled over to her discarded shoe, gingerly picking up the shiny needle inside. _

The stage was lighted now, with all eyes focused on the dancing figure. Clappers snapped, flutes blew. No one saw the chains.

_She stuck her silver spoon in the brightly colored kakigori, eyes glowing. Just as she was going to put a spoonful in her mouth, she paused. Underneath the shaved icing, the spoon was black._

She swept her arms, making the oversized sleeves billow, while the crowd _oohed_ and _aahed_. It was child's play to pull out the fan from inside her sleeve, even with the heavy bonds. Just a quick sleight of hand and the crowd gasped like fish out of water.

How pathetic.

_"Why can't you stay?" she whined, tears springing up in the corner of her eyes. _

_A pause. Then, a simple "I'm sorry." _

_She was crying now, her tears blurring the outline of the man standing in front of her. "Your grandmother's not going to like it if she knows I'm here," he stated, flashing a warm smile. "Your performance is next week, right? Dances aren't my thing, but I'll definitely come, okay?" _

_He never came._

She felt all her worries, all her emotions, simply fly away. All that remained was the flow of the music and the thrum of the air. But the chains remained.

_She'd heard the spiteful whispers of the remaining household, everywhere, as long as she could remember. _

_"Why is an unconventional like _her_ the heir? The Buyo's all about being graceful, not flitting about the stage!" "They say she's like a sparrow. Ha! An ant more like." "Her fans are only teenage boys, you know? Figures." _

_They hated her, and all she could do was to hate them back. So she did._

_When she was eleven, she put a needle in each and every one of their shoes. _

She wanted those chains off.

_When the school called her grandmother for bullying, she expected to get scolded. When she came home, however, her grandmother only commented on the performance that was due two days later._

_She didn't care about her grandchild. Only her dancing. _

She wanted them off NOW!

_Snap!_ went the fan, and the ceiling shrieked in delight. The overhead lights above the audience twisted as the prepared mini-bombs on the cables went off, plunging the heavy machinery to the ground.

_Swish!_ went the fabric of her sleeves, with the chorus of screams and squelches of body parts replacing the harmony of the notes.

She no longer cared about her expression, a wide grin disfiguring her rigid mask. She was free, finally free.

There was no more music or life left in the music hall. Still, she kept on dancing, the bright, bright red cherry blossoms on her kimono seemingly turning into a scarlet blur.

_Dancing took everything from something she could have had. Her parents, her childhood, the share of love for her. _

_It wasn't the fault of the traditional dance, though. No- the people who made her dance were the ones at fault. __**They**__ were the ones who took her life away._

_So she was going to destroy the ones that destroyed her._

And thus the dance of death continued.


	4. Vengeful Marionette

Depths of Both Sides

Vengeful Marionette

(Pre SDR2, I don't own SDR2.)

* * *

Blood. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the walls, seeping into every crevice imaginable. The wooden floor seemed to be lacquered with the liquid, layers upon layers of the color. The air stank, made of the combined scent of blood, sweat, and vile, stifling in the enclosed space.

With the smothering heat of fresh death permeating the space, the place alone would have made any normal person insane.

That was where he was, in a death trap full of anarchy_._

The sequence of events had started in the beginning of the so-called test of 'hope'. Everything started unraveling then: their sanity, their trust, their integrity.

And deteriorated to the tar pit known as despair.

He was in one of the many classrooms in the locked space. It really did not matter which particular classroom he was in, though. They were so utterly similar, down to the splatters of blood. He slid his fingers across one of the desks, the rough wooden surface smeared with sticky pink.

He could hear them now, the shattering screams echoing around the hall, ingraining into the walls.

"._..I-I, DON'T, WANT, TO, DIE!_"

"_IT'S NOT, MY FAULT!_"

"_SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_"

The sickening screeches reached to desperate garbled gibberish, shrieks and wails of anguish spiralling to absolute dismalness. Curling his lips, he uttered two words.

"How vile."

He straightened his pristine shirt cuffs. The sweat was making them stick to his skin, even though he had taken off his black dress jacket. His hair wasn't helping either with his battle, a cascade of black hanging languidly over his back.

It was then when he heard an irregular sound among the cacophony, that pf soft rythmic taps almost buried under the shrieking. He paused, focusing on that tiny piece of oddity, a nice break from all the senseless chaos.

_One, two, one, two_ went the sound. _Pit-pat pit-pat_ went the steps of an average high school student that was probably behind him at this moment.

Ah, how boring it was to figure that out.

An iron pipe swung and faltered, going through empty space where a head was a moment ago. The boy with the cascade of black hair was already long out of reach, having jumped to the other side of the classroom. The assailant, a blood splattered male, merely gazed at him with blank eyes, slowly raising his pipe once more.

The attacker looked more like a corpse than a person, his eyes devoid of life. With shuffling gaits, he moved slowly towards him, one step after another-

And stopped as a hand penetrated his throat.

The assailant gaped like a water-hungry fish, moving his mouth to form silent words as all movement disappeared from his fresh corpse. Disgusted, the previously bored boy quickly slid his hand out of the body with a sickening _squelch_.

It unnerved him, how easy and fast to extinguish the life. How he had done what all the others had done, to walk the road of insanity. How he had allowed to be controlled so easily.

It sickened him to no end.

He turned away, running out of the occupied classroom. The nightmarish scenery blurred together into one big tunnel, as he sprinted off to nowhere.

An empty corridor. Turn left. Dead end. Go back.

Blood blood blood blood blood.

Wild breaths forced themselves up from his chest, bursting into short gasps. His hair streaking behind him like a wayward streamer.

Why did such a place exist? Why was he stuck here? For what ends? Again, the answer flowed to him with ease.

For the sake of _despair_.

As he ran, a shadow jumped in front of him, brandishing an axe. His body moved on instinct, a sharp blow to dislocate the wrist, then a quick jerk of his hands to break the neck.

_CRACK_.

The snap of bone woke him up from his dazed state, leaving him with another carcass at his feet. The tortured expression, the glazed dull eyes with slight foam at the edge of its mouth, seared into his eyelids.

He collapsed to his knees, unable to take his eyes off from the corpse. His crimson pupils were wavering, the light flickering in and out of focus.

Friends slaughtering friends. The frightened murdering the brave. Strong wills eroded by insanity, lurching around killing everything they see.

What did they accomplish? What did their their beliefs, thoughts, actions bring?

Nothing.

The whole thing was meaningless, resulting in a pile of senseless deaths and kills.

And he was helpless to do anything about it. In fact, he was used as a stepping stone, a puppet, to bring out despair to the world. The exact opposite of his existence.

All for the amusement of a mad girl.

A sudden feeling surged inside of him, an emotion of titanic magnitude that weighed him to agonizing reality.

A tidal wave of crushing, **crushing** despair.

He sat there, not moving until his 'teachers' had found him, splattered with blood and staring at a corpse without focus.

Getting hauled by his arms, Izuru Kamukura ony had one thing in mind.

_'I __**will**__ get my revenge.'_


	5. Fallen Dragon

Depths of Both Sides

Fallen Dragon

(Post SDR2, I don't own SDR2.)

* * *

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. Heir of the former Kuzuryu Yakuza clan, former student of Hope's Peak Academy, and one of the remnants of Ultimate Despair.

He was the one who had personally killed all of the existing Kuzuryu clan members, chasing them relentlessly until they succumbed. He was the one responsible for the decimation and arson of numerous corporations. And finally, he was the one who orchestrated the Togami family's downfall.

And Byakuya Togami was the one responsible for his recovery.

At least, according to _him_.

* * *

"HUH?" Makoto Naegi almost spat out his coffee on the messy pile of paperwork, his eyes wide. "I- I mean... Is there something wrong with being Souda's caretaker?"

"Don't lie Naegi, you're horrible at it." He spat the poisonous words out of his mouth, his head pounding painfully. "And if you plan to do so, don't do it to someone who was trained to detect even the slightest hint of a falsehood. So tell me; why was I not informed of the doings of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu?"

Naegi, who seemed to shrink with every word he said, managed to stammer out an answer. "W-well, we thought you might have gotten upset-"

"So Kirigiri's in this too," Togami hissed. He thought as much.

"Well, yes, but-" Naegi floundered nervously, before being cut off once more.

"I suppose you don't mind me asking some _questions_ to her then," Togami stated sternly, teeth clenched, fists tight and shaking. He turned on his heel, ready to go and drill the lilac-haired girl.

"Hold on!" He slid his gaze back down to Naegi. The Ultimate Hope had leaped up from his chair, grabbing onto one of his sleeves with surprising strength.

"It's true that Kirigiri and me both knew about what Kuzuryuu did," Naegi stated strongly. The previous guilty demeanor had vanished. His wide eyes lit with the same strong spark Togami witnessed all those years ago, during their imprisonment in the dreadful academy. "But **I** was the one who decided to hide it from you."

A long, tense pause.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but-" Naegi started, before something sudden happened.

It was like Togami's hand moved on its own. Before the blonde heir could reign it in, he was pinning the shorter male to the wall, bringing out a pained gasp from the shorter male.

"You're SORRY? You think this would be covered with a mere 'Sorry'?" he hissed, tightening his grip on the other's shirt, choking the latter. The clamoring in his head grew louder, full of a cacophony of sounds that pounded in his head. '_More, more pain, Keep GOING!_'

But before he could do so, the short male spoke, despite currently getting choked.

"I knew you would be upset," Makoto Naegi stated solemnly.

?!

"I know that's not an excuse," Naegi went on, despite the shallow gasps here and there, despite his throat and chest constricting. "But I wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to get upset again."

"..." The blonde stared at the other male with cold eyes, blankly. He loosened his grip, stumbled backwards, collapsing into a chair.

His rage was gone, his mind hollow. This was so unlike him, and yet... "Like I didn't already know that," he rasped.

"Huh?" asked Naegi, bewildered, as he tried catching his breath. The glasses-wearing male barked out an empty laugh.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't know?" Togami asked rhetorically, suddenly feeling tired. Naegi merely stared at him, quiet, willing to listen.

"I know you. You and your sickening sense of justice," he put on a half hearted sneer, knowing that it looked fake to the both of them. "I honestly didn't expect anything less."

_Then why did he ask him?_

_For what purpose?_

_What did he want?_

Even he didn't know.

* * *

When he came in, the Kuzuryu heir was looking out the window.

The room was somehow even more pristine than before, nothing out of its place. Even though it was clear that there was someone else in the room, he didn't move from his place at the window, still as a statue. Togami cleared his throat, bringing nothing but even more silence.

"Can you hear me, or are you as deaf as you are visually impaired?" Togami drawled scathingly, eyes boring into the other male's back, willing for him to turn and face him properly.

The yakuza slightly turned his head, but still had his back turned. How rude.

"Who are the fuck are you?" Kuzuryu asked bluntly, yet still seemed uninterested. It seemed like he still needed conditioning on manners, Togami noted, a sneer blooming on his face.

"I am Byakuya Togami," the tall blonde said imperiously, arms crossed as he stared intently at the yakuza.

A quick glance, but the baby-faced male couldn't garner any recognition towards the name. "14th division of the Future Foundation," the glasses-wearing male added gruffly.

No sooner than the words left his mouth, that the shorter male was fully turned around. Gone was the carefully blank eye and uninterested look on a face, a fervor overtaking the spindly yakuza.

"Future Foundation!" Kuzuryu crowed, with a small hacking sound, that sounded as if he was trying to give a cackle. Grinning from ear to ear, he leaned forward towards Togami intently. "So, what do you plan to do to me, lemony asshole?"

"What?" said lemony asshole asked, eyebrows furrowed, as he stared at the loony boy.

Togami couldn't help be a bit unnerved at the unnatural grin that split the young yakuza's face. It was making him uneasy. He didn't know what it was about the grin that put him on edge, just that it was a bit too wide, and the single eye looked far too dead for the smile to be real.

"What the fuck are you going to do to me, eh?" Kuzuryu pressed, unnerving grin still on his face. "Kill me? Fuck with my brain? Torture all my little fucking secrets out of me?" he asked fervently, giving a barking laugh, head thrown back as he cackled.

"Shut up, you imbecile!" Togami snapped, heated scowl on his face. "My mission here is to help you '_recover_' to normal. Whether I believe you are worth it, and my effort, is a different story entirely."

Silence. Total and utter silence.

The yakuza heir was completely still. Suddenly frozen on the spot.

Then Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu doubled over, howling hysterically. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!"

The hollow laughter bounced off the steel walls, echoing with dissonance.

"Recover? _Normal_?" He was still crouching, sniggering to himself. "What do you mean by '_normal_'? Do you mean that in a _general_ sense, or just by _your_ point of view? It doesn't matter which one you think though."

The yakuza finally looked up at him, and Togami flinched, rearing back slightly at the sight before him. Kuzuryu's expression was a picture of insanity, his eye swirling with dark _despair_.

"Listen to me carefully," the yakuza stated, eerily calm and quiet. A sudden motion, and the tall blonde found himself grabbed by his tie, his face an inch away from the Despair's face.

"I was never _normal_ to begin with. Normalcy's been killed by everyone else from when I was _born_. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" the insane boy was crying, despite his laughter. A single tear slid down his dirty cheeks, a sliver of lightness cutting through the grime and darkness

"That's why I want you to kill me," Kuzuryu whispered hoarsely, right next to his ear. "You want me to recover right? So _kill me_."

* * *

Kill me.

_Kill me_.

But Togami did the exact opposite. He made him _live_.


	6. Life in a Few Snapshots

The Depths of Both Sides

Life in a Few Snap Shots

(Pre-SDR2. I don't own SDR2.)

* * *

_Every picture told a story._

_That was what her mom used to say._

* * *

The final school bell had already rang, with the crowd of students rushing out of the building busily chatting away with one another.

"So is it true?" one of her friends asked in a hushed whisper.

Koizumi nodded, sheepishly eying their faces, her face slightly warm.

"Wow! Hope's Peak!" one squealed.

"You're soooo lucky!" another crowed.

"I always knew your photos were good!" noted the girl who had asked her the fateful question.

Koizumi smiled and laughed with them as they joked around together. One suggested that they go to the karaoke, for a last minute celebration.

With her mask, she agreed, as she covered up the seed of doubt with fun and chattering. But that didn't stop it from taking root, using her years of self doubt and deprecation as fertilizer.

Why her?

What was so special about her, compared to her mother?

With that added pressure upon her, the mask smiled as she took aim at her past friends, almost knowing that this was going to be the last time that she would see them again.

With the burden weighing her down, she snapped the shutter.

_Click, flash!_

* * *

It was when she was meeting with her friends she heard the -_[DELETE]_

The ear piercing sound echoed throughout the empty building, and with hearts in mouth, they raced up the stairs to -_[DELETE]_

It was in front of the door where they met Satou, who looked pale. She stammered that the music room was locked, which led her to hurry and get the -_[DELETE]_

Out of breath, almost out of her mind with worry, she opened the door with trembling hands. When the door slammed open, she couldn't help but stare at -_[DELETE]_

It was like a sick fantasy. Everything in the classroom- the glass on the floor, the dripping water, the -_[DELETE]_... She couldn't help but pinch herself, trying to confirm that this was, in fact, **real**.

Purely out of instinct, she slowly moved her hand to her camera. Her brain tried to rationalize what she did, justifying the action with a made up excuse of the police. After all, they were bound to be involved after something like -_[DELETE]_

But that wasn't the true reason for why she _-[DELETE]_

_Click, flash!_

It was Satou who snapped her out of the confused daze. The daring proposal to -_[DELETE]_. They took that lifeline, agreeing to the selfish conclusion.

It was when they were heading out, when she saw it in the next classroom. A glinting shard on the windowsill, just barely managing to catch her eye. Cautiously she opened the door and saw-

_[DELETE]_

_[DELETE]_

_[DELETE]_

With the sensation of the floor crumbling beneath her feet, she snapped the shutter.

_Click, flash!_

* * *

The smell of rust and sweat. The clump of black hair resting against the concrete wall.

She couldn't even scream, the whole world turning black before her eyes.

With the darkness choking her, she subconsciously snapped the shutter.

_Click, flash!_

* * *

The school was eerily empty as Koizumi ghosted through the vacant corridors. There was a blank, vacant space in her head, the usual worries that tugged on her brain having all but vanished. It was like she slipped into a dream; long, dull, and unending.

It had been a month after the incident. People still talked about it here and there, like a wildfire that has been reduced to clumps of smoldering ash. People avoided her- since she's been Satou's best friend, and one of the first to find her corpse. Her usual group of friends also didn't get close to her, but that was on her own volition.

Koizumi couldn't face them. Not after what she saw. Not after what she **did**.

She turned right and climbed up the stairs.

_Kuzuryyu's crazed eyes seized them, as he interrogated the group about his little sister. _

_Saionji was an excellent liar, feigning ignorance with arrogance, with Satou also giving off a haughty facade. Ibuki was surprisingly able to hold her own, not blabbering and spilling the information- compared to Mikan, who was trembling with her usual tear-filled eyes spilling over in shame._

_But all Koizumi could do was stay still._

One step. Then another.

_Mikan was there, sobbing as Peko stood in front of her, obviously being questioned. Her doe-like eyes pleaded to Koizumi as she walked by._

_She turned her back and ran._

Right. Left.

_Koizumi knew her turn was coming. Pekoyama cornering her, her red eyes piercing, like a police searchlight. Somehow, Koizumi managed to stand her ground. But with the toxic truth burdening her mind, she couldn't say the lie that was planned out._

_All she could do was keep quiet. Even as Peko drew a sword to her throat, she couldn't say a word. The tension was suffocating. Seconds crawled by slowly, before the gray haired girl withdrew the blade._

_"You are a brave individual." The swordswoman left with those parting words, but Koizumi didn't feel any joy._

_She was busy regretting the fact that she had not died at that moment._

Just one more...

_Because that was all she (could do/was good for)..._

Koizumi opened the door to her homeroom, the hinges creaking like that of a B-horror movie. Her hand clenched tightly around the rope, ghostly-white like her face.

_She was useless. It was **her** fault that two people were dead, when she had the opportunity to prevent it._

Shoeless, she stood on the chair, tying a noose with trembling hands.

_She never belonged here in the first place. _

_She was not her mother. She was not special._

_She was simply Mahiru Koizumi._

With the noose hanging on the hook where a fan previously hung, Koizumi took a deep breath. Struck by an impulse, she grabbed the camera hanging around her neck by its strap, her hands fumbling. She stared down at the black, sleek lens, before taking aim at the noose.

With shaking hands, she snapped the shutter.

_Click, flash!_

* * *

It was a dark and grimy ruin, where she was busy preparing her next shot. The person was still and whole, which was rare material during these days.

"Now, just a biiiit more...There!" the girl chirped. She smiled widely at her handiwork, at the bright burst of life on his face. Ah, what a nice shade of pink that was...

She took out her camera from its container. The trusty device was no longer pristine, but flecked with bits of debris from her previous works.

**Especially** the last one, where the person was split right open, down the middle. My, how messy that one was! But it had been worth it, for how hauntingly beautiful the pictures came out.

True masterpieces.

With the device in her hands, the girl gave a deranged smile and giggle, before raising it and and taking aim.

Covered in blood and despair, Koizumi snapped the shutter.

_Click, flash!_


End file.
